Hot glue is hot.

Once upon a time, I was in my Mama’s bathroom watching her get ready for a Christmas party. As always, she was wearing something fabulous that few people in this world could pull off and shoes that I couldn’t wait to borrow. (Let the record show that even though this was about 25 years ago, I’m quite confident that if I went into the attic right this second, I could indeed borrow those shoes and be completely stylish because of my vintage look.)

I remember Mama retrieved a pair of beautiful ice blue rhinestone earrings that had flowery dangles. Yes, 80s fashion was totally awesome to the max. Deal with it. When she pulled of the backing to one of the earrings, the post came out right along with it. (That was one quality item.)

Mama: “Oh no!”
Me: “I’LL GET MY GLUE GUN!”

It’s important to know that at this time in my life, I had an unnatural love for my hot glue gun. I glued EVERYTHING. More than likely, it was already warming up in the living room due to my previously scheduled evening activity of making clothespin reindeer for my teachers while watching the Cosby Show.

I think I even glued the hem of some long pants once because I really wanted to wear them and there just wasn’t time for me to masking tape the bottom together like a normal person.

I smiled as I ran back into the bathroom with the hot glue gun, proud that I was able to come to the rescue with a hot glue emergency. For some reason, I left the bathroom. Perhaps the Cosby Show was starting and I didn’t want to miss a moment of the Huxtable hijinks. Maybe my standard evening meal of Spaghetti O’s and Meatballs was threatening to bubble over on the stove top. It could have been that my sister Jamie was finally paying attention to me with more than a, “I’ll time you to see how fast you can make me a sandwich.”

The point is…I left the hot glue gun in the hands of my mother and walked away.

Moments later, we hear screaming. It sounds as if my Mom has lost and appendage. I run to the bathroom ready to apply pressure to a wound while simultaneously calling 9-1-1. Mama is hopping around, holding her ear shouting.

Mama: “IT’S HOT! IT’S HOT! IT’S HOT!”
Lincee: “What? What’s wrong?”
Mama: “I didn’t know it would be so hot!”

I finally get it. And as an elementary school aged kid, I’m stunned. Instead of gluing the post back on to the earring, my smart, responsible, perfectly capable mother glued the illustrious bauble to her own ear.

Needless to say, we had a great time witnessing her pull the monstrosity OFF later that night. Daddy likes to bring this story up whenever we’re in large groups.

And what better group to share than with my IHGB family!

Happy Birthday Mumsy. Stay fabulous.

Love,
Leigh

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